


Coming Home.

by halelujah



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Season 3 Spoilers, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halelujah/pseuds/halelujah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s elbows deep in suds when he first hears it; a low, eerie howl travelling over the thick expanse of trees from behind his house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home.

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely around the lyrics of _We're Coming Home_ by The Rogue Traders. 
> 
> Also, if anyone is wondering when I'll be updating DNTM, I will be soon! I PROMISE! You can come yell at me if you like, just click [here](http://www.the-calvaree.tumblr.com/).

He’s elbows deep in suds when he first hears it; a low, eerie howl travelling over the thick expanse of trees from behind his house.

Stiles shivers, feels goosebumps slide over his skin despite the hot temperature of water rippling around his forearms, heart thudding a rapid tattoo against his ribs and mind twisting and turning ideas as to who it might be calling, might be asking permission into Beacon Hills. 

There was silence after the howl tapered off, allowing any of the wolves in town to answer. In that time though, no one replied and Stiles was nearly vibrating out of his skin for something, anything to happen. 

He tries not to hope, tries not to think that _just maybe_ , maybe it’s someone returning from a four month disappearing act, that it’s not someone looking for refuge, or someone here to kill them and use their bones for ritualistic sacrifices to some Norse God. 

Breathing out harshly, he closes his eyes, searching within himself to find that place, _that darkness_ , that would usually flare in his chest when something evil, would step over the barrier he and Deaton had set up around the four borders surrounding the town. But just like the radio silence between the unknown werewolf and the Pack here in Beacon Hills, there was nothing. 

Fuck it. 

Water and soapy foam splashed everywhere in his haste to make a grab for his phone, ready to call and explain that he feels no threat to the town, no need to arm the front lines and ready the defences. Stiles doesn’t need to though, stopping short of the table where the device lays, when he hears another howl sound, this one familiar and soothing to his ears and rapid pulse; Scott.

He chews on his bottom lip as he waits, fists clenching and relaxing by his sides, eyes darting over to the Mountain Ash and mistletoe infused bat that sits by the door just in case. 

When his phone begins to vibrate, Stiles dives for it, doesn’t even look at the caller ID and answers it with a terse, “Who is it?”

"It’s him," Isaac breathes down the receiver. "Derek’s back."

Stiles grins.


End file.
